


An Unassuming Life

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Domestic!Dean [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Dean Winchester, F/M, Fluff, Language, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6078567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean returns home after a long day at work to find you waiting for him. This is a domestic/husband Dean AU. The Winchesters are not hunters in this AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unassuming Life

 

You were in the kitchen, putting the plate of food you’d made for your husband in the oven, when the front door slammed, so hard it sounded like a gunshot. 

“Dean?” you called.

You heard his keys hit the table by the door just before he appeared in the doorway. One look at his face and you knew; he’d had a shitty day. 

“Jesus, babe, rough day?” you asked. You pulled open the fridge, grabbed a beer and handed it to your husband.

“Yeah,” he murmured wearily. He twisted the top off of the beer and tossed it on the table, then he drank half the bottle in just a couple of swallows. He wiped his mouth on his forearm, closed his eyes and sighed heavily. 

You crossed the room to stand in front of him, stretching up on your toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. The was a streak of grease on the side of his face and his neck. You wiped at it with your thumb; not that it did any good, you merely smeared it across his cheekbone. Dean tilted his head, pressing his cheek into your hand. 

“Hi,” he murmured. His lips met yours and he kissed you, soft and sweet.

The thick scent of oil, grease, and sweat washed over you, a smell you’d grown so accustomed to over the last few years that you barely noticed it, though your nose must have wrinkled slightly, because Dean chuckled quietly.

“That bad, huh?” he smiled.

“You need a shower,” you shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he replied. “You’re not wrong.” He looked behind you, then into the family room. “Where’s Henry?” he asked.

“Sleeping,” you said, checking the watch on your wrist. “It’s almost ten.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “Jesus, really? I didn’t realize it was so late. I’m sorry Y/N, I should have come home earlier. It was just...Kevin was out sick and the new guy didn’t show up.” 

You pulled the plate from the oven and set it on the table, gesturing at Dean to sit down. You sat down across from him as he ate, listening to him talk about his day.

He had worked at the local garage for more than five years, since before the two of you had gotten married. He’d learned everything he knew about cars from his father, though he seemed to be a better mechanic than his dad. He worked hard, sixty or more hours a week, which allowed you to work part-time so you could stay home with your son Henry. He was hopeful that someday he would be able to open his own garage.

You grabbed him another beer from the fridge, setting it on the table in front of him as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. You rubbed at another streak of grime on his arm and the grease embedded in his knuckles. “You should shower and go get some sleep.”

Dean reached up and cupped the back of your head, looking up at you. He kissed you again. “You’re sure Henry’s asleep?” he murmured.

“Mm-hm,” you hummed, his fingers pressing into your scalp, massaging it gently.

“Good,” he smiled. “Come on.” He pushed himself to his feet and took your hand, leading you up the stairs to your bedroom. He pushed the door closed, pulling you into his arms, his lips all over you, tugging the tank top you were wearing over your head, tossing it to the floor. He shoved his hands into your sweatpants, pushing them off your legs.

“I’ll go start the shower,” you said, reluctantly pulling away from your husband’s lips on your neck. 

Dean nodded and began stripping off his dirty clothes while you went into the attached bathroom and turned on the shower, adjusting the water temperature until it was perfect, just the way both of you liked it. You stepped inside, letting the water wash over you, watching the door, rubbing the soap over your body.

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at your husband as he entered the bathroom. He had to be one of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen, though you knew he didn’t see himself that way. He was broad shouldered, thick in all the right places, tanned, muscular. He had freckles scattered all over his body, freckles you’d spent years memorizing, kissing and touching. You knew every one of them. His bowed legs carried him toward you, his half hard cock swinging between his legs. His deep, emerald green eyes flashed black with lust as he stared at you through the glass of the shower doors, rivulets of water running down your skin. He stepped inside and pushed you against the cold tile wall, his hands on either side of you, trapping you between his arms.

He kissed you, sighing as your ran your soapy hands over his arms and chest, cleaning the day’s dirt and grime from him.The kiss deepened as you moved down his stomach and you took hold of his cock, your hands easily sliding up and down his rapidly hardening shaft, aided by the soap. When you reached down to cup his balls, Dean growled low in the back of his throat, a feral sound that made your skin tingle. 

He put his hands on your waist, squeezing gently, then he slid them up your sides, his thumbs just brushing across your nipples as he cupped your breasts, drawing a moan from you. He grabbed your arms, the soap falling to the floor. took both of your hands in his and pulled them over your head. He grasped your chin in his hand, pushing your head against the wall, tilting it back. He caught your lower lip between his teeth, tugging at it briefly before pressing his body against yours and kissing you deeply. 

His cock was trapped between your wet bodies, hard, thick, throbbing, his desire for you obvious. You moaned into his mouth as he pushed open your legs and his thigh pressed against your aching pussy. You ground yourself against his leg, desperate for some kind of friction. 

Dean’s head dropped to your neck, his lips completely encompassing your pulse point, sucking greedily. His fingers drifted down your stomach, slowly tracing over you, his middle finger sliding inside you, pumping slowly in and out, his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing in tight, even circles. You were gasping and squirming, undulating against his hand, your body responding to his touch, winding tighter and tighter as you moved closer to your climax.

“Dean, honey,” you moaned. “I’m gonna come.” 

Dean spun you around, put your hands on the wall, and eased inside you, filling you completely. He ran his hands up and down your back as he thrust into you, finally resting them on your shoulders. 

You braced your hands against the wall, pushing back against him as he buried himself deep inside you. The sounds of wet bodies sliding against each other, your moans and his deep growls filled the shower as the steam billowed around you, and the sensations overwhelmed you. 

Dean’s hands slid around your waist, his fingers drifting down your stomach and easily finding your clit, caressing it as he slammed into you over and over until you were coming, your walls tightening around him, drawing a loud groan from him and a gasp of pleasure from you, your entire body tensing as the orgasm rolled through you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned as he let loose, yanking you back against him, holding you tight as he came, his cock pulsing inside you.

Dean held you against his chest, his lips roaming over the back of your neck and your shoulders, his hands gently massaging you. You laid your head back on his shoulder, smiling up at him. He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“The water’s getting cold,” he chuckled. “Let’s get out.”

* * *

It was almost midnight by the time you and Dean climbed into bed. You snuggled against his side while he flipped through the channels on the television in the corner, finally settling on Jimmy Fallon. You were just falling asleep when the unmistakeable sound of your almost three-year-old erupted from the monitor on the bedside table.

You groaned and started to push the blankets off. Dean stopped you with a hand on your stomach.

“I got him, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your cheek. “You go to sleep.”

You listened as Dean opened Henry’s door - your son’s excited voice when he saw his daddy and Dean’s quiet, laughing, ‘hey little man.’ You waited, expecting them to come through the bedroom door, Henry in Dean’s arms, ready to crawl into bed with you. But the door remained closed and there was only silence. After a few minutes, your curiosity got the best of you. You climbed out of the bed, threw on some clothes and made your way down the stairs, following the light to the kitchen.

Your husband sat at the table with your son on his lap, two glasses of milk - one tall glass one, one sippy cup - on the table in front of them, along with an open bag of Oreos. You leaned against the doorjamb, watching.

Dean was showing Henry how to twist the top off the cookie to get to the creamy filling. He held the cookie in one hand, then he took his son’s small hand, positioning his fingers just right, chuckling as the entire cookie spun in his hand. When Henry finally succeeded in taking the top off of his Oreo, he squealed in delight.

“Daddy, look,” he cried gleefully, holding the cookie out so his father could see it. “I did it.”

“Yes, you did,” Dean laughed. “High five!” He held his hand up so Henry could slap it, which the young boy did immediately, grinning happily, then he shoved the entire cookie in his mouth, chewing with his mouth open.

“Can I have one?” you asked, stepping into the kitchen.

“Mommy!” Henry smiled, looking over Dean’s shoulder. “Daddy gived me cookies!”

“I see that,” you said, sliding into the chair next to them. “Will you share?”

Henry looked questioningly at his father, waiting until Dean nodded at him before handing you one of the cookies from the bag. You shoved the whole cookie in your mouth, laughing at Henry’s shocked face.

“Mommy, no!” he sputtered. “You has to do it like this, like Daddy.” He grabbed another cookie from the bag, struggling with it for a few seconds, pushing Dean’s hand away when he tried to help, until he finally twisted off the top and triumphantly nibbled at the creamy filling.

“Oops, sorry kiddo,” you giggled. You grabbed another cookie and removed the top, smiling at your son’s delighted giggle. “Better?”

Henry smiled, his little teeth stained black with cookie. Dean kissed his forehead, then he wrapped his arm around you, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Aren’t you tired?” you asked. “You go to bed, I’ll stay up.”

“I’m good,” Dean murmured. “No place I’d rather be than right here.”


End file.
